


Evening

by OzQueen



Series: babysitters100 [66]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Christmas Party, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Future Fic, Kissing, Post-Canon, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9160915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: "It was only meant to be a white lie but it's getting out of control and I just wondered, if you were free, if you could come with me to the Christmas party and just pretend to be my boyfriend for a few hours."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hopeonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeonfire/gifts).



> Happy fandom_stocking, hopeonfire! I sincerely hope you're not overwhelmed by the word count - I just had way too much fun writing this. Your prompts were fantastic and I can only hope I did them justice.

* * *

Mary Anne jumped as her office door opened with the kind of violence projected by someone with no patience for waiting. Her pen scraped an unwelcome mark on her notepad, and the Christmas cards lined up on her bookshelves all toppled over and fell to the floor.

"Hey," Alan Gray said, thrusting a crumpled sheet of paper at her. "Can you do me a favor?"

Mary Anne glanced to the open door behind him, but nobody had followed him from the reception desk, protesting that he wasn't allowed to just burst in. She made a mental note to complain; Laura had a bad habit of just waving people through.

"You've never heard of knocking?" she asked, taking the paper from him and trying to calm herself after such an abrupt interruption.

"Wanted to see how high you'd jump," he said with a grin. "Did you bump your knees on the desk?"

"I'm busy, Alan," Mary Anne said pointedly. "I have an appointment in ten minutes. What if you'd burst in here and I'd had a client with me?"

"You have a window," he said, pointing back at the glass pane in her door, outlined in silver tinsel. "Anyway, you don't ever have clients with you in here, they all go to your dad's office." He motioned to the crumpled paper Mary Anne held in her hand. "Can you help me?"

She glanced down at it and caught the word INFRACTION printed across the top edge. "A traffic violation? Alan, come on."

"I was going like _two miles_ over the speed limit," he argued.

"It says here seven."

"It's still —" he broke off and mouthed the next word silently "— bullshit."

"I don't even deal with traffic violations," Mary Anne said, feeling slightly insulted. "Go and see Tracey Carter downstairs if you want someone to give you advice on this."

"Oh, your time is too valuable is it?" Alan asked with a grin. "How much, exactly, do legal secretaries charge for their advice?"

"I'm not giving you legal advice!" she snapped.

"C'mon," Alan wheedled, "can't you talk to someone for me?"

Mary Anne sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose, where her glasses had been pinching. "Okay, listen," she said wearily. "Do you want to fight it? Because if you do, you'll have to go to court, and that could take a few months. Your license might be suspended, and you might have to pay to get it reinstated. Not to mention — I mean, do you even have a good excuse for driving too fast?"

"I was slowing down!" he protested.

"You were going too fast," Mary Anne repeated. "Just pay the fine, Alan, and then forget about it." She pushed her glasses back up her nose. "Seriously," she added, "I'm really busy."

He flopped into the chair opposite her desk, squinting against the winter sunlight coming through the window behind her. "You know who gave it to me?" he asked. "Robert Brewster."

Mary Anne glanced down at the ticket.

"He saw it was me," he added.

"He saw a speeding driver," Mary Anne said patiently.

"Yeah, take his side," Alan said.

"You did the wrong thing! I'm not sure how many more ways I can word it for you." She fluttered her fingers at him in order to encourage him out again. "Just pay it, Alan. Trust me, I'm saving you money."

He mumbled a vague noise of disagreement.

"You wouldn't have to pay anything if you'd just stuck to the speed limit," she reminded him.

They were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door which separated her office from her father's, and he poked his head in and gave her a smile. "I'm not intruding, am I?"

"No," Mary Anne said, trying to tidy the papers on her desk. She thrust Alan's ticket back at him. "Alan was just leaving," she said.

"Hey Mr. Spier," Alan said, getting to his feet.

"Hello again, Alan." They shook hands, and Mary Anne noticed the way her dad's eyes flicked curiously to her and back to Alan. "I hope you're well?"

"Just picking Mary Anne's brains," he said with a grin.

"Oh," Richard answered. "Well, forgive me for cutting your visit short, but I need to do the same."

"I'll leave you to it," Alan said, somehow making it sound as though he was doing them both a gracious favor. "Bye Mary Anne."

"Bye, Alan," she said, trying not to grit her teeth. "You're welcome."

"Oh yeah, thanks," he said.

Richard closed the door softly after him and glanced at Mary Anne, his head slightly tilted.

She let out a frustrated huff. "He wanted me to get him out of a speeding ticket."

"He seems to be in here a lot," Richard said thoughtfully. "Does he get a lot of speeding tickets?"

"No," Mary Anne said with a small laugh. "He works in the copy place across the street." Feeling like she was underselling him a bit, she added, "His dad owns it. They work together."

"Ah, I've heard that happens sometimes," Richard answered with a smile. "One of those summer jobs that turned into a career?"

Mary Anne wrinkled her nose and smiled back at him. "Are you after the motion for the Jefferson case?"

"Yes please." Her father watched her thumb an individual paper from the stack on her desk. "How's the Christmas party planning coming along?"

"It would be easier to do it myself," Mary Anne admitted with some frustration. "Preston from Werner and Young is making things harder than they should be."

"Is there anything you need help with?"

"No," Mary Anne said, handing him the paperwork he needed. She smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks, Dad, but we're about done. One last meeting this afternoon, and I'll need to finish up early on Friday to help set everything up."

"Sure," Richard answered distractedly, reading the papers Mary Anne had handed him. "Thanks for this, honey. Did you want to sit in on this meeting?"

"Not unless you need me to," she answered, knowing the answer was already a no. "I'll send them in when they get here."

He smiled at her again and disappeared back into his own office. Mary Anne sighed and got to her feet, intending to fix the tinsel Alan had dislodged from her window, and collect the Christmas cards he had toppled to the floor.

* * *

"What are our confirmed numbers?"

Mary Anne glanced up at Preston, trying not to let her irritation show. "Almost 300," she repeated. "Which is fine — we gave 300 as the cap. I'll update the catering team again before I leave today."

He grinned at her, the end of his pen resting against his lower lip. "Nice work," he said. "I hope you're planning on letting your hair down, Mary Anne."

She responded with a nervous laugh.

"Got your outfit all picked out?" he asked. His eyes flicked to her neckline and then back to her face, and she resisted the urge to lift a hand and make sure her buttons were all still neatly fastened.

"Not yet," she answered, glancing at Margery. She was still busy scrawling something in her planner, apparently oblivious to the conversation.

"Well, I want to see some Spier dance moves," he added. "I've got a feeling they get wild after midnight."

"Uh, no," Mary Anne answered, feeling flustered.

"Well, I think that should do it!" Margery said brightly, closing her planner. "I'm planning to get there around three on Friday afternoon to oversee the final touches — does anyone need a ride?"

"I'll drive," Preston interrupted. "Doesn't make sense to take more than one car, right? I have a buddy who works in security there; he'll make sure I can get into their garage and pick it up the next day."

"That would be wonderful," Margery said, beaming at him. "Mary Anne?"

"Oh, no thank you," Mary Anne said. "I'll make my own way."

Preston looked disappointed. He slowed by the door on their way out, letting Margery walking ahead. "Hey," he said to Mary Anne, "I hope you'll save me a dance."

"Oh," Mary Anne said, giving that nervous laugh again. "Uh, sure."

"And I'll be sure to figure out exactly where all the mistletoe is hung," he added with a grin.

She thought he winked at her, but it was so fast she couldn't be sure. She didn't laugh this time, just went red in the face.

"You're blushing," he laughed. His fingers brushed her arm.

"I have a boyfriend," she blurted. "I'll um, I'll be dancing with him."

He looked taken aback, and then annoyed. "Hey, don't read too much into it," he said. He strode ahead, and Mary Anne let him go, feeling angry and embarrassed.

* * *

Mary Anne had only just unlocked the door to her office and was unbuttoning her coat when Preston tapped sharply on the glass and let himself in. Richard followed him, and Mary Anne thought they must have met in the elevator. Her stomach plummeted. 

"Good morning," Preston said, beaming at her. He made it look like he was gloating. "Just wanting to double check the numbers for the Christmas party?"

"It hasn't changed since our meeting yesterday," Mary Anne said, hanging her coat up. "It's still 300."

"Right," Preston said. "That's including partners, right? Husbands, wives… boyfriends."

The way he emphasized the last word made Mary Anne's skin crawl. "It includes everybody," she said.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He glanced at Richard and then back to her. "I'll let the two of you catch up, and I'll come by later to confirm a few things about the decorating."

"What needs to be confirmed?" Mary Anne asked, feeling annoyed, but Preston winked at her — she caught it for sure that time — and left, pulling the door closed behind him. The silver tinsel flashed and glittered under the fluorescent lights.

"Good morning," Richard said, looking amused.

"Hi," Mary Anne answered miserably. "I guess Preston was talking about the Christmas party on the way up here."

"He talked a little about it," Richard answered, pulling his scarf off. "Isn't it cold out?" he said conversationally.

"I lied to him," Mary Anne confessed, glancing through the window in her door to make sure he really had disappeared. "He was joking about mistletoe and it just came out."

"What did?" Richard asked.

"I told him I had a boyfriend," Mary Anne said, knowing he already knew. She didn't know if he was giving her a chance to avoid talking about it, or if he wanted her to be clear and own up to her mistake.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to just turn him down?"

"Probably," Mary Anne said, not meaning it. It was never easier to just turn men like Preston down — and anyway, he had never said anything she could pinpoint as _definitely_ asking her out or being more interested in her than a friend. It was just a feeling she had. Suddenly she wondered if she'd grossly misread him. Was she arrogant enough to misread harmless comments as something more?

"Do you have any aspirin?" she asked, leading the way to her dad's office and heading for his desk.

"In the middle drawer," he said. "Preston did mention he was looking forward to meeting your boyfriend."

"Did you answer him by saying 'me too'?" Mary Anne asked, sinking into his desk chair.

"No," Richard said with a small laugh. He unlocked his desk for her and she pulled the middle drawer open. "I did wonder why I hadn't heard about this new boy you were dating, but I didn't give the game away. Well, I don't think I did." He drew a paper cup from the water cooler in the corner and sat it in front of her. "Are you not feeling well?"

"It's just a headache," Mary Anne said. "I don't know why I said it. I just didn't want him to think I was leading him on."

She felt the weight of her dad's hand on the back of the chair as he stood beside her. "Well, maybe you can pass it off as a misunderstanding," he said comfortingly.

Mary Anne nodded. She didn't voice the thought which immediately ran through her head: _Or, I could find a boyfriend in the next 48 hours._

* * *

Mary Anne liked the smell of the copy shop. It smelled like paper, ink, and the weird heat that came out of printers and fax machines.

Alan's dad was at the counter, but he didn't recognize her. "Can I help you?" he asked. The tips of his fingers were smudged with ink, and he had some under his right eye and on the frame of his glasses.

"Um, is Alan working today?" Mary Anne asked, trying not to fidget.

"Alan," his dad called. He grinned at her and disappeared in back. "You've got a customer," she heard him say.

Alan met her with a grin. "Well, well," he said. "Here to see if I can get you out of a printer jam?"

"No," Mary Anne answered, wondering again if this was the worst idea she'd ever had. "I need a favor."

He almost preened. "So the tables have turned, huh?" he asked.

"I need a date to the Christmas party," she blurted. "On Friday."

His eyes bulged and he leaned on the counter, his grin only getting wider. "Are you asking me out?"

"No!" she said, perhaps a little too vehemently. She sighed and rubbed nervously at her nose. "See, this year, all of the offices on the same floor as my dad's firm are joining together to host a Christmas party… together." She shifted her weight and wished Alan would stop looking so delighted. "Anyway, this guy from Werner and Young, the insurance company…" She trailed off to make sure Alan understood, and he motioned for her to keep going.

"This guy, Preston," she continued, "he comes by my desk sometimes to chat… I mean, we keep running into each other in the corridor, and we went through this weird stage where we kept ending up in the elevator together?"

"Hot," Alan said.

Mary Anne winced. "No, just… He says things sometimes and I'm scared I said something or did something to lead him on, and I'm not interested, but yesterday he said he wanted, like… mistletoe…" She felt her face growing hot again.

Alan laughed.

"So I told him I had a boyfriend," she said, feeling embarrassed and more than a little ashamed. "And I don't, and now I'm scared he'll find out I lied to him… It was only meant to be a white lie but it's getting out of control and I just wondered, if you were free, if you could come with me to the Christmas party and just pretend to be my boyfriend for a few hours."

"You should know I'm expensive to hire," he said.

"Forget it," Mary Anne sighed, spinning on her heel to leave. "I'll ask Robert Brewster instead."

Alan made a strangled noise. "I can do it!"

"I'll see you later," Mary Anne said, pushing the door open.

"Wait," Alan said, scrambling around the counter to follow her. "Dad, I'm going for coffee! Back in ten."

"Bring one back with you!" was the answer.

It had rained overnight, melting the snow and making everything slushy and dirty. The sun glared off the street and made Mary Anne's eyes hurt.

"Don't ask Robert," Alan panted, catching up with her.

"Why not?" Mary Anne asked. "He'll take it more seriously than you will."

"He's a tool," Alan said. "I can take it seriously, I swear. Just tell me what I have to do."

Mary Anne stopped, but couldn't bring herself to face him. She stared at the logo on his shirt — he'd left in such a hurry he'd forgotten his coat. "I just thought it would be an easy way to get out of the mess I've gotten myself into, but it'll probably just make things worse…"

"I'll wear a suit and tie and everything," Alan said. "And I can be a super considerate boyfriend," he added. "I'm still friends with all my exes. Ask any of them and all they'll tell you is that I'm late to everything and I'm a smart ass in front of their dads. But I'm not a jerk."

She felt a tiny sliver of hope. "I don't want him to find out I was lying," she said. "You need to be convincing. You can't joke around. And you can't make any inappropriate comments."

"Aw," he said, looking deflated.

"I mean it," she pressed. "I don't want Preston to hear you kidding around, and think that he can do the same at work."

"Okay, okay." He held up his hands in defeat, and grinned at her. The cold was turning his cheeks rosy. "I'll be good, I promise."

She looked up at him, squinting against the glare. "Okay," she said. "It's Friday at six, and I'll have to meet you there, because I need to get there early and help set up."

"No problem," he said.

"It's at the art gallery."

"Sure."

"Make sure you look nice. Wear a tie."

"Yes ma'am." He grinned again. "Come on," he said, interrupting her next instruction. "I'll buy you a cup of coffee and you can talk me through exactly what I'm supposed to do."

"I don't drink coffee," she protested.

He slung his arm around her shoulders and steered her up the street. "Hot chocolate, then," he said. "Let me treat my girl."

* * *

"So how long have you been with this boyfriend of yours?" Preston asked, appearing at the bottom of the ladder Mary Anne was using to string up streamers. 

She clutched the top rung, terrified and trying not to show it. "Not long."

"Yeah," Preston said, "I got the impression your dad wasn't that happy about it, to be honest."

"That's not true," Mary Anne said, unsure why she felt so defensive of Alan. "Dad likes him."

"Hm," Preston said. He held the bottom of the ladder and his eyes drifted down a little to linger at the tops of her thighs. "You okay up there?"

"Um," Mary Anne said, wobbling a little. "If you want to swap, that'd be — I mean, I wouldn't say no."

He put his hand against her back as she hurried down, and she stiffened and ducked away from him as soon as her feet were on solid ground again.

He grinned lazily, and her heart hammered in her chest. "Want me to string some mistletoe up there as well?"

She shook her head, and he laughed and climbed the ladder with ease, the streamers trailing after him. "How'd you meet him?" he asked.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. She knew he was only asking her questions to make her uncomfortable — she knew he could _see_ she was uncomfortable, and yet he pressed her anyway. This was what she disliked about him, she suddenly realized: he found amusement in her discomfort; he enjoyed making her flustered.

"We went to school together," she said. "Excuse me." She walked away rapidly, her face burning. She could feel a fierce desire rising up within her to really prove him wrong — to make him really see, to really _show_ she had no interest in him at all.

* * *

Mary Anne was in conversation with her dad and Sharon when she felt a gentle hand slide around her waist. She jumped and looked up, almost expecting to see Preston — but it was Alan, looking pleased with himself. He grinned at her. 

"Hey sweetheart."

"Oh my gosh," she breathed. She gave a nervous glance to her parents. "Um, you both know Alan, right?"

Sharon looked as though Christmas had come early. Mary Anne almost felt sorry for her father — she was sure he'd be subjected to hearing about this for a long time to come.

"Alan," Sharon said with a wide smile. "So lovely to meet you at last!" She grasped his hand in both her own. "I'm Sharon. Mary Anne's told me _all_ about you of course."

"I bet she talks about me all the time," Alan said, taking Sharon's apparent glee and running with it.

"Oh, all the time," Sharon agreed, giving Mary Anne a sly look. "When are you coming over for dinner?"

Alan looked utterly delighted. "Hey, I've been trying to convince her for ages," he said, motioning to Mary Anne.

Mary Anne looked to her dad, exasperated, but he only tilted his head slightly and gave her a small smile in return. She could read his mind perfectly: _You made your bed, Mary Anne, and now you must lie in it._

"We'll let the two of you catch up for a moment," Richard said, slipping his arm around Sharon's waist to gently steer her away.

"Dinner," Sharon said again, pointing a finger at Alan and then at Mary Anne. "I'll come back later and we'll set it up."

They left to circle the room and greet other people. Mary Anne turned to Alan a little nervously. "Hi," she whispered.

He grinned. "Hey. I was gonna come in and kiss your cheek but your dad made me really nervous."

"I would never have guessed," she said.

"Your stepmom seems pretty cool."

"Someone should have fun tonight, I guess," Mary Anne said.

"Do you want to sell this or not?" Alan asked. "You don't look very happy to see your loving boyfriend."

She glanced over to the bar, where Preston had stationed himself within a circle of other men from the insurance firm.

"That him?" Alan asked. "The jerk in the pinstripes?"

"Yes," Mary Anne answered.

"Pfft." Alan swung himself around, suddenly looking all arms and legs. Mary Anne hadn't ever really noticed how tall he was. "I'm way better looking in a suit than that guy. Check me out." He tugged on the lapels of his jacket and grinned at her.

She smiled back. "Very smart, Alan."

"I was hoping for sexy, but okay." He wrapped his arm around her waist again. "Let's get a couple of glasses of wine into you and we'll see if we can improve on 'smart'."

They approached the bar, and Mary Anne's nervousness ramped up with each step. "Please don't be rude to him," she whispered urgently. "Remember, you're supposed to be someone I'm in love with — it needs to be believable, and if you're rude —"

"I got it, I got it," Alan reassured her quietly.

Preston spotted them, and extracted himself from the circle, greeting her loudly. "Mary Anne, honey! The place looks great," he said, acting as though he hadn't been there the entire afternoon helping her set up. "You did a great job."

"Thanks," she said. She glanced at Alan. "Alan, this is Preston. Preston, Alan."

Preston shook Alan's hand vigorously, stepping into their space. Mary Anne took a step back, but Alan stayed where he was.

"Good to meet you, Alan," Preston said. "I think I've seen you around the office before."

"Probably," Alan said with an easy grin. "I come by and annoy Mary Anne a lot."

"I would never have known," Preston said, still not stepping back. "She never talks about you!" He gave a loud laugh to soften what Mary Anne knew was meant to be an insult.

Alan took a step back, but drew Mary Anne in under his arm at the same time. "Probably wise," he said with a grin.

She smiled back at him. Funny, how both of them so often resorted to making a joke of things, and yet with Alan she was never uncomfortable. Was it because she had known him for so long?

"So, have you two been together long?" Preston asked.

"A little while, I guess," Alan said vaguely. He looked down at Mary Anne and grinned. "Are we still in the honeymoon stage?"

"The shine is wearing off a little," she said, but she was smiling. She couldn't help it; she could see he was having fun.

"Nah, we're still there, we're still there," he said. He looked at Preston. "We've known each other since kindergarten," he said. "We went to school together, but we didn't date or anything. I needed to grow up a bit first, I guess." He pulled Mary Anne to him gently. "She's still way out of my league."

Preston gave him a smile with no warmth to it. "Can I get you both a drink?" he asked, gesturing to his half a glass of beer.

"Sure," Alan said. "Beer for me."

"White wine, please," Mary Anne said, hoping it would steady her nerves. She felt a little out of her depth, and it was partly due to the fact Alan seemed to be doing better at all of this than she was. She had pictured it differently — she had projected a heap of situations where she had spoken quite coldly to Preston, confident and beautiful on Alan's arm. In her daydreams she was disdainful — why hadn't she realized it would never have been like that? She wasn't sophisticated enough to pull off the cold and distant look.

She sipped at her wine.

"So who hung all the streamers?" Alan asked, craning his head back to look at the red and green ribbons trailing across the ceiling.

"Preston," Mary Anne said.

He laughed. "Mary Anne tried, but I'm sure you know what she's like with heights. I had to help her down the ladder." The look Preston gave her was suggestive, and it made her skin crawl.

"You're not scared of heights," Alan said in surprise.

"No, but I don't like ladders." She smiled at him, genuinely impressed he hadn't completely bought Preston's story.

"Hey," Alan said suddenly, grinning, "remember in tenth grade, Pete was helping Stacey and Claud with the decorations for the Spring Fling dance, and he fell off the ladder and broke his arm?"

"Oh," Mary Anne said, wincing in remembered sympathy. "I do remember that. He had it in a cast for the dance."

"His dad wanted to sue the school."

"That was just a rumor," she sighed.

"I'm pretty sure you're wrong," Alan said, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, you two have little play arguments," Preston said, eyes flicking between them both. "That's really cute." He drained his beer. "Excuse me a moment." He turned back to the bar, and Mary Anne took the opportunity to grab Alan's hand and lead him away.

"He's a tool," Alan muttered. "I'd rather be stuck talking to Officer Brewster."

"Wow, you're really holding a grudge over that speeding fine," Mary Anne said, still holding his hand as they wove through the crowd.

"Until the day I die," he swore.

They took refuge behind one of the wide pillars in the room. The gallery was hosting an exhibition of modern oil paintings, and Alan wrinkled his nose at the nearest one.

"Are there any nudes?" he asked.

"I don't think so, Alan."

They were spotted by Margery, then Mike from the accounting agency, and then Trish from HR found them and started chatting. At some point Mary Anne realized she'd never dropped Alan's hand, and now and then his thumb would brush back and forth over her skin.

She wondered if he knew he was doing it — if it was real, or if he was just that good at playing a role. The wine had turned warm in her blood, and she accepted the second glass from Mike with a smile. It was easier to play up to Alan's presence now — she found herself leaning into him readily, and her admiration for the way he was conducting himself showed itself more and more in her face.

He was very likable, she realized. In fact, she didn't know anyone who didn't like him. He spoke with ease, and was quick to joke and make people laugh. He asked polite questions about everyone's roles on the floor, and slipped in a compliment to Mary Anne now and then, his hand touching her arm or her waist or her shoulder casually. He also undersold himself a lot, which became more apparent when Trish asked what he did for a living.

"Just helping my dad out," he said with a shrug.

"His dad used to run a printing business out of his house in Stoneybrook," Mary Anne interrupted, "but it got so successful he had to start his own store. He designs logos and runs a copy store. Alan's his partner."

Alan looked a little embarrassed, but pleased as well. "It's not that great," he said with a shrug. "He finally expanded the business when I was in college, and I decided I liked working there more than I liked studying."

"The best way to learn about business is to be in business," Mike said with a grin. "You guys designed our logo. Check it." He held up his business card, and Mary Anne felt a swell of pride. She squeezed Alan's hand, and he squeezed back.

When the conversation turned to a matter Margery and Mike had been dealing with at work, she and Alan gracefully extracted themselves.

"Do you want another drink?" Alan asked.

"No, but you go ahead, if you want," she said. She felt a little lightheaded and wished she hadn't finished either glass quite so quickly.

"Nah, I'd better not," he said. "I'm driving." He leaned in, talking quietly. "Hey, how are you getting home?"

"Um, I could get a lift with Dad," she answered hesitantly. "Or just — a cab I guess."

"I can take you home." His breath was warm on her ear.

She smiled up at him. "You don't have to."

"C'mon, don't you think it's suspicious if I get into my car and you get into a cab?"

"Oh," Mary Anne said in faint surprise. "I guess so."

"You live here in Stamford, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, good, because my chivalry doesn't extend as far as Stoneybrook."

She giggled, and he grinned and slid his arms around her waist. There was music playing, and they weren't dancing exactly, but they found themselves swaying to it just a little.

"Hey," Alan whispered.

She looked up at him.

"You look really pretty… and I mean that in a real way, not a — not a fake boyfriend way." He looked a little shy, but his smile was real.

"Thanks," she whispered back. She was sure her face was turning pink. "You look nice too, Alan."

"I always look spectacular," he said solemnly, and she giggled.

He grinned and leaned in, touching his forehead to hers for just a second or two before he straightened up again. It was nice, Mary Anne decided, being his fake girlfriend. She leaned her head against his shoulder and let him turn her with slow steps, swaying gently.

"Ah, shit," Alan muttered.

Mary Anne looked up. "What? Is it Preston?"

"No, your dad is coming. Probably to kill me."

She arched her eyebrows at him. "My dad doesn't kill people."

"Yet," he corrected her. "First time for everything."

"Did you make a rude gesture or something?"

Sharon was still, apparently, overjoyed by the whole scenario. "Can I cut in?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Alan said, taking her hand graciously.

She laughed and drew attention to them both with an elaborate spin, which caused her bobby pins to come loose and her skirt to flare and wrap around her knees.

Mary Anne stepped closer to her dad, feeling a little self-conscious. "You and Sharon are headed home?"

"Before it gets too late," her dad said with a nod. "There's meant to be more snow on the way and I'd rather avoid driving in it if possible."

"Sure," Mary Anne said with a nod.

He looked at her. He didn't look disappointed, but she knew he didn't understand what was going on between her and Alan. He knew they were friends, and she thought it confused him, and perhaps hurt him a little, to think there was something more between them that he hadn't recognized, or hadn't been told about.

"Am I still welcome for lunch on Sunday?" she asked with a small smile.

He laughed and drew her in to kiss her forehead. "Always," he said. "I believe Sharon's asking Alan for his company as well."

"Oh," Mary Anne groaned softly.

"Little white lie?" he asked.

"I know," she answered. "Lesson learned." She bit her lip. "At least — I mean, I think Preston has backed off a little, so…"

"Does he really bother you that much?" Richard asked. He looked properly concerned, and Mary Anne hastened to reassure him.

"No," she said, but that sounded like more of a lie than the one she was currently living with Alan. "I mean, yes," she said, looking down. "I don't know. He just makes me uncomfortable. He's very… persistent."

"Have you tried just telling him no?" Richard asked.

"It's hard to say no when he hasn't actually offered a question for me to answer," she said with a small shrug. She hated not being able to explain her discomfort. She hated that nobody else seemed to trust her feelings. Alan was the only one who had so readily accepted that Preston made her uneasy.

"Well, I'm not sure that playing pretend with Alan will help solve that problem," Richard said, "but I can see he's certainly fond of you."

She felt a little flustered. "Probably because he thinks I can get him out of speeding tickets."

"But you can't."

"No, and I've told him that." She smiled at him. "I'm not handing out legal advice, Dad. Don't worry."

He gave a small laugh and kissed her again. "It's in my nature to worry about everything, Mary Anne, no matter how capable you are."

"Drive safe," she said, feeling the sudden urge to hug him tightly, but resisting. "I'll see you on Sunday."

Sharon kissed her cheek, looking a little breathless and smiling widely. "I really like this one," she stage-whispered to Mary Anne, and Mary Anne couldn't tell if she was still playing along or if she was genuinely approving of Alan as a boyfriend.

Mary Anne kissed her goodbye, and watched her parents leave.

Alan slipped his hand into hers. "Parents are gone," he said. "No curfew. Feel like fooling around?"

She laughed and shook her head at him. "Don't push your luck."

"Still play fighting, kids?" Preston had come up behind them, and Mary Anne jumped, feeling a little guilty. Had they said anything which would give them away?

"Dinner with the in-laws on Sunday has us both a little tense, I guess," Alan joked.

Preston gave him a tight smile. "So, I hate to cut in," he said, "but Mary Anne, you promised me a dance."

She blinked at him. "I did?"

"Don't play coy just because your boyfriend is here," Preston said, laughing through his words like it was all one big joke.

Mary Anne froze up — she wasn't sure how to protest, but she didn't _want_ to dance with Preston. The whole point of having Alan there pretending to be her boyfriend was so she didn't _have_ to dance with Preston.

Alan drew Mary Anne closer. "Sorry man," he said with a grin. "I am way too possessive to let you do that."

Preston laughed again, but Alan only responded by wrapping his arms around Mary Anne. She leaned her head on his shoulder indulgently and linked her arms around his waist, hoping Preston would grow uncomfortable enough to leave.

"Well," Preston said, clearly his throat, "I guess I can see why, I mean — turn your back, she might get swept off her feet by someone else."

"Exactly," Alan said. "I only _look_ stupid."

"You know, I was thinking — I probably see Mary Anne more than you do," Preston said casually.

"Oh yeah?" Alan asked. "Park yourself at her desk all day, do you?"

Mary Anne pinched him gently, trying to warn him away from getting into a stupid argument.

"Oh, you know what it's like, working in close quarters," Preston said.

"Your quarters aren't that close."

Mary Anne cleared her throat softly and looked up at Alan. "I'm thirsty," she said, interrupting as gently as possible. "Let's get a drink?"

"Sure," Alan answered. "You okay? You want some air?"

"Let me get you another glass of wine," Preston said, and for a moment Mary Anne thought he was reaching for her hand.

"Hey," Alan said, dropping his arms from around Mary Anne's waist to step between her and Preston. "Back off, okay? She's not interested."

Preston raised his eyebrows. "I think you're misreading things, pal."

"I don't think I am," Alan said.

"Alan," Mary Anne said softly, tugging at his hand. "Come on."

Preston smirked. "Why don't you listen to your, uh, girlfriend," he said.

Alan let Mary Anne tug at him again and lead him away, but she heard him mutter something under his breath. It sounded distinctly like _fuck you._

She didn't lead him back to the bar — she headed for the doors leading out into the courtyard, where there were a bunch of people smoking and shivering together.

"Hey," Alan said, pulling her gently to a stop. "Sorry. I can go back and apologize, I guess."

"No, don't," she said miserably. She shook her head, feeling more and more ashamed of herself. "Alan, I'm sorry about tonight. This whole evening must have been awful for you. I didn't mean for Preston to be so rude — I didn't think he'd be that upfront about everything, but I guess he's had a few drinks and maybe I've hurt his pride —"

"Don't make excuses for that asshole," Alan said impatiently. "That's all he is, Mary Anne, okay? He's just an asshole." He lifted one tentative hand, hesitating for a moment before he gently brushed her hair behind her ear. "Anyway," he added, "I haven't had a bad night. I mean, listening to all that accounting talk with Mike and whats-her-name was pretty boring, and the beer isn't really cold enough, and I really just want to take my tie off, but it's been okay, you know? Pretty good." He gave her a warm smile.

He had a nice smile, Mary Anne thought. He was always such a goofball — it was hard to see him as anything else, really, but he wasn't bad to look at, and he seemed genuinely concerned about whether or not she was all right. She found herself feeling a little overwhelmed with warm thoughts and affection for him.

"I owe you a really big favor now, I guess," she whispered.

"Nah," he said. "Just don't ever give that guy the time of day, and we can call it even."

She huffed a laugh against the back of her hand. "I won't."

"You should report him to someone for being a creep," Alan added.

"But he doesn't ever say anything I can really pinpoint," she said, feeling frustrated. "It's just a feeling, you know? And he could explain it all away by saying he was just being nice, or he was joking, or I misunderstood." She stepped a little closer to him, telling herself it was to shy away from the wafting cigarette smoke in the still evening air.

"Oh, here," he said suddenly, shedding his suit jacket. "Shit, you must be freezing."

"Oh, it's okay," she answered in surprise, but he insisted, helping her pull the jacket on. The sleeves hung past her fingertips.

"Seriously though," Alan said, not able to let it go, "at least tell your dad how gross that guy is. He'll be able to help you figure out a way to keep him out of your office."

"You're right," she agreed. She felt a little relieved about having such a plan in place, though she wasn't sure how practical it would feel, come Monday morning.

"Why is it always guys in pinstripes?" Alan wondered. "Do you need to be a specific level of jackass before they let you buy a suit like that?"

"Shh!" Mary Anne widened her eyes at him. "Someone will hear you."

"Sorry." He grinned at her.

Mike gave Mary Anne a little wave with his cigarette, grinning at her. "Coming to Barney's?" he asks. "A bunch of us are headed there now — they're about to stop serving drinks here."

Mary Anne glanced at her watch, alarmed at how late it was. "Oh, no thanks, Mike," she said. She smiled at him. "Have a good time, though."

"Night, guys," he said. "Good to meet you, Al."

"Yeah, you too," Alan said. Once Mike was gone, he wrinkled his nose at Mary Anne. "I hate it when people call me Al."

She laughed, and he fumbled with the sleeve of his jacket until he found her hand, twining his fingers with hers. "So on the Good Boyfriend Scale, where do I sit?"

"A seven," Mary Anne answered mildly.

He looked disgusted. "Oh, come on."

"Maybe an eight," she relented.

"I'll ask Sharon on Sunday and I'll bet she gives me a ten."

"Don't you dare," Mary Anne said, wondering if he really did intend to come for lunch. She supposed it was a way to thank him — and it wasn't like she wasn't already _friends_ with Alan. Friends could come over for Sunday lunch.

"Okay, I've got it," he said quietly. His forehead inclined to hers again, not quite touching.

"What have you got?" she asked. She blinked  up at him. Little snowflakes were swirling and coming to rest in his hair. There was a small part of her that wished this romantic moment was real.

"How to get a perfect ten," he said. "Brace yourself, Mary Anne."

She almost giggled, nervous and excited and trembling a little with the cold.

His fingertips slipped over her cheek gently, and his lips brushed hers — not a proper kiss, just enough to encourage her one way or the other. She let her eyes flutter closed and she lifted herself onto her toes to meet him properly.

It was chaste, but sweet. His fingers tucked her hair behind her ear as they parted, both of them grinning sheepishly at one another.

"Ten?" he asked hopefully.

She considered her next words carefully, wondering if it was worth putting an end to the game, which made everything feel a little safer. "Almost," she said. "Maybe you're a nine."

"Aw, come on, what does a guy have to do to get a ten?" His face lit up at a sudden thought. "Oh —"

"No," she interrupted.

He grinned at her.

All she wanted to do was kiss him without anyone else watching — really kiss him, just to see if there was something real there, or if it was the illusion which was making the prospect of a relationship with him more attractive than it actually was.

He leaned in and kissed her again — quiet and gentle, just lips brushing and pressing, nothing more. His hand cupped her cheek. "It's late," he whispered. "Want me to take you home?"

She weighed his words carefully. "Okay," she whispered.

He kept hold of her hand as they wove their way back through the gallery, stopping briefly to say goodbyes and wish people happy weekends. Mary Anne kept his suit jacket on, and for a moment she wished she could spot Preston, just to really drive the deception home.  _Look at me leaving the Christmas party with my boyfriend._

The snow was really coming down by the time they made it to Alan's car, and they sat for a moment, watching the wipers gather and sweep it all away and waiting for the heat to start coming through the vents.

"That was fun," Alan admitted. "Being your boyfriend, I mean."

"It was," Mary Anne agreed. She gave him a shy smile. "Thanks for this evening, Alan. I know it probably doesn't seem like much, but you really helped me out. I don't think I would have enjoyed myself at all if you hadn't been there."

"Nah, you would have been okay," Alan said. "You just need to stand up for yourself a bit."

"I know."

"You can do it," he reminded her. "I mean, you're pretty quick to tell me to shut up sometimes."

"No I'm not," she said, vaguely insulted.

"Maybe not in those words," he clarified, grinning at her. "But you're not uncomfortable setting me straight, right? That guy Preston shouldn't be any different. Tell him to go to hell."

The wine, and Alan's warm attention, made her feel like this was entirely possible. "I will," she promised.

They didn't talk much on the drive home — Mary Anne only speaking to direct him to the little house she rented, colored Christmas lights blinking in the front window, snow settled across the lawn like a blanket.

Alan walked her to the door. "So," he said, sounding a little nervous, "uh, the next time you need a boyfriend for hire…"

"I'll remember you come cheap," Mary Anne said with a smile, her keys hanging from her fingertips.

He grinned. "Well, yeah, but don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Hm," she said.

He stepped closer, sliding his hands under the suit jacket she was still wearing, arms circling her waist. When he kissed her this time it was more intimate — mouths slightly parted, the soft touch of his tongue and the warm sweep of breath against her cheek. They parted slowly, and he touched another light kiss to the end of her nose, causing her to smile at him.

"That's a ten, right?" he said.

"Definitely," she whispered.

He broke the mood by punching the air and whooping.

"Shh!" Mary Anne hissed at him, mortified. "I have neighbors, you know!"

He laughed and stood in front of her, hands in his pockets against the cold. "I have a serious question to ask, though," he said.

"Okay." Mary Anne waited nervously.

"Do you have Stacey McGill's phone number? Because now I've kissed you, Claud, and Kristy, and if I'm going to keep the Baby-sitters Club theme going, I need —"

"Oh!" Mary Anne swung her purse at him and he laughed and staggered backwards.

"Night," he said, grinning at her from a safe distance.

"Good night, Alan."

"I'll pick you up on Sunday morning."

"Okay."

"Should we go to church before we have lunch with your parents? I'll probably need all the help I can get."

"Yes, you will," she said, unlocking her door. "But you can go to church alone."

He wrinkled his nose at her. "Want to get coffee instead?"

She smiled. "Okay."

"Is ten o'clock okay?"

"Perfect."

He grinned at her again. "I'll see you then."

"You will."

"A real date this time, not a fake one," he clarified.

"Yes, Alan," she said, smiling as she started to close her door. "A real date."

He laughed, and she kept the door open long enough for them both to share one last smile with one another.

* * *

 


End file.
